Hood Lemonade Jamika's Vendetta (12 page)

“Yes,” Jamika answered, grabbing her purse and heading for the front door.

“Where are you going baby? Come here.”

Deonte was standing in front of the door of one of the rooms of the house. He always kept this room locked and had previously given the same nonchalant attitude when she’d asked him what was in the room. He unlocked the door and what Jamika saw next took her breath away.

The room was very large; it had to be the biggest room in the house. The room held a full, mixing and recording studio. Jamika looked at all of the mixers, soundboards, monitors, speakers, drum machines and microphones. She couldn’t think of a single piece of equipment that the studio was missing. She wondered why he would hide this from her. “Dee, what is all of this?”

“This is what I do for a living. I am a master of beats,” he said.

Jamika was a little confused. “Okay and why would you keep this from me? You know how much I love music,” she said.

“Well, I guess I wanted to know that you liked me for me first, and not for what I do,” he said.

“I don’t get it,” said Jamika.

“Okay, have you ever heard of Daddy Dee?” he asked.

“Are you kidding me? Who hasn’t? He’s made some of the livest beats out there. All of his stuff is tight. But nobody really knows what he looks like, he stays real undercover. Do you know him?”

Deonte smiled and said, “I am him.”

Jamika heard him, but could not quite believe him. She looked around the room and saw plaques and awards, autographed photographs from various artists, and pictures of him with top hip-hop and R&B stars. She could not believe that the guy she’s been dating for the last year and a half is a star. “Why do you stay so behind the scenes?” she asked.

“Well, I know a lot of famous people and I don’t want to live like them. They can’t walk down the street, or go shopping, without a fan wanting an autograph or a picture. The slightest incident ends up in a tabloid. I am a simple guy. I like to lead a simple life. Yet, I love beats, I love music, I love the money. You see, my life without music, would be no life at all. So, I guess I’m trying to keep the best parts of both worlds. I am in the process of looking for someone to produce right now. With my connections, I can make it happen.”

Jamika always saw Deonte as being articulate and sensitive. She always pictured Daddy Dee as being hard-core. He continued, “I was thinking of holding some local auditions. There is a lot of talent between here and Miami.”

“That’s true, but baby, you know that I can sing,” she said.

Deonte looked at Jamika with a skeptical expression. “You are always talking about that, but you’ve never sung anything for me.” Jamika knew what Deonte was saying was true. Often she would hum along with songs in the car with him, or sing softly in the shower. For some reason, she felt shy as far as singing for him. She’d sing for rooms filled with people, yet Deonte made her doubt her voice. Now, she understood why she must have felt that way. She was the girlfriend of a music giant.

Now she felt even more nervous and unsure. “Are you going to sing for me or what?” he asked.

“Sing what?” Jamika asked shyly. Deonte could sense that Jamika was nervous, and decided to make it a little easier for her. He said, “I have a song here that I have been working on. I’ll do the rap part, and I want you to sing the hook. You know how to read music, don’t you?” Jamika nodded yes. “Good. Just sing what’s on the paper when I point to you.”

“Okay,” she said.

The music began. She listened to the track as Deonte started to rap:

“Remember us chillin’ on the rooftops quiet as its kept

Meetin’ up in alleyways, doorways and steps

Remember when we used to be pop-lockin’

Now we lock poppin”

As he continued, Jamika listened on in disbelief as her man transformed into the thuggish type, which was taking the hip-hop industry by storm. His lyrics were tight, and her dream of really becoming a professional singer could become a reality now. She hummed the pitch to herself to the first note of the hook. When he pointed at her, Jamika let go on the two-line hook, adding her personal flavor in spots to spice it up. Her words came out beautiful and strong:

“Hood lovers, we ain’t got much but we got each other

Nobody can break us, only us makes us”

Deonte stopped the music and looked at Jamika, stunned. “Damn, you really do have vocals. Sing me something else, just you this time.” Deonte had given Jamika the vote of confidence she needed and this time she did not hesitate. She sang her heart out and that wonderful feeling that always came over her when she sang engulfed her. When she was finished, she looked over at Deonte. Deonte held a solid, wide grin, but said nothing. “What’s so funny?” Jamika asked.

“You are going to be rich.”

***

Over the next few months, Jamika had forgotten about both summer school and college. Her thoughts were focused on the beautiful music that she and Deonte made together. They were already on the fifth track of her demo, all Daddy Dee originals. They had been working ten-hour days, with the exception of when Deonte had to leave town to work on music with other artists. He would always return with frivolous gifts for Jamika. Jamika used the time when he was away to visit with her family.

Felise was getting very skinny, and not caring much about her appearance. Jamika would go over to do her mother’s hair, clean her house, and do laundry as often as she could. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in moving out. It did not seem as if the tough love was helping her mother. She seemed to be spiraling deeper and deeper into a world of darkness, despair and depression.

Chapter Fourteen

Almost two years had passed and Jamika still found it hard to believe how much work went into being an artist. It seemed that she was always practicing, recording or writing new material. Through Deonte’s robust connections, she’d starting doing opening acts for popular artists on a regular basis. She exercised daily to keep her figure, and sleep usually did not exceed four or five hours a night.

Her demo had been distributed to three major records labels, but there still hadn’t been any offers. Jamika was ecstatic when Deonte told her that someone from Nubian Records, wanted to meet with her. She would be flying out to Jamaica that night, to audition for them.

“Really baby? We’re going to Jamaica?” Jamika asked excitedly.

“You’re going. I have some important business to take care of here, so you’ll have to go alone. The flight is only like forty-five minutes to one hour. This is the closest they will be to here for a while, so I thought it smart for you to go ahead and audition for them now. I bought you some badass outfits and shoes, and I’ve already booked your flight and hotel. Someone will pick you up from the airport and take you to the hotel.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t go all the way to another country without you.”

“Listen baby, I can’t always be there. I already told them that no deals are to be made. I just want them to hear you, up close and personal. To make it in this business, you have to be game, when it’s time to be. You’ll be fine; I know you will. I am only a phone call away, if you need me,” he reassured her.

Jamika felt awkward leaving for another country in such a hurry. She hadn’t had enough time to let her family know that she was going. As they approached the airport, Deonte pulled over to the side. He handed Jamika what looked to be two, extremely thick maxi-pads taped together. “What the hell?” asked Jamika, confused.

“This is twenty-five thousand dollars; put it on you like a pad. You’re not allowed to carry this much money into the county, so be careful. Give this to the guy that picks you up from the airport. I owe him for a really big favor that he did for me.”

Jamika lifted her skirt to place the thick wad inside of her panties. It felt uncomfortable and awkward. She didn’t understand why he didn’t just wire the guy the money or something. Yet, she knew that Deonte would not tell her anything wrong. She kissed him, climbed out of his Benz, and waved goodbye, as she walked toward the Air Jamaica airline entrance.

***

Jamika felt the plane descending. She looked out the window where the blackness of the night overtook the beauty of Montego Bay. She would have never figured that at the tender age of twenty, she would be in Jamaica auditioning for a prominent record label.

She went to the baggage claim to get the two Gucci suitcases that Deonte had purchased for her. Then, she headed off to Customs to have her passport stamped. She listened to the sounds of the Jamaican performers, who sang a warm greeting within the airport. She then walked outside where the warm breeze caressed her skin. As she walked along, eager taxi drivers tried for her business. She heard, “Wey ya go?” and “Come now,” all around her.

She sat down to wait for the person that would be coming for her. Shortly afterward, a light-skinned Jamaican guy, with short cut hair and chinky eyes, who smelled of expensive cologne, approached her. “You Ja-meek-ka?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Charles. Come now,” he said, pointing to what looked to be some kind of business van.

Jamika climbed in the front seat, and was about to turn around to face front when she noticed that the guy was staring at her. “Is there a problem?” Jamika asked.

“Me drive.” Jamika turned at once to see that she was sitting in the driver’s seat, which would normally be the passenger’s side in the U.S.

“Sorry,” Jamika said, getting out and going around to the other side.

They reached Brandon Hill Guesthouse, which was located on the top of a hill. Jamika was led to her room. She went out on the balcony where she could see the ocean that was the clearest blue she had ever seen. She thought that the beaches in South Florida were beautiful, but there was no comparison. She spent the night in her room, practicing for the audition; until sleep finally drew her in.

She was awakened by an intense tapping on the room door. She looked around. It took her a moment to remember that these unfamiliar surroundings were Jamaica, where she had arrived last night. She opened the door and there stood Charles, the guy that had picked her up from the airport. He looked angry and held a cell phone out towards her. “Hello?” Jamika said into the phone.

“Jamika! What the fuck? What did you do with that money? I told you to give it to the guy that picked you up. He’s going to make sure you have everything you need. Damn! Can’t you follow simple directions?” Deonte yelled angrily through the phone at her. Deonte had never cursed at Jamika, let alone spoken to her with such disrespect. It angered her that he did not trust her.

“I have it right here. I wasn’t sure if this was the right person; he didn’t ask for it. That is a lot of damn money to be giving to someone that I do not know. What? Do you not trust me or something?” Jamika said, visibly irritated by the situation.

“Yeah, baby, I trust you. I’m sorry,” Deonte said, calming himself.

Jamika went in her bag and handed Charles the large wad of cash. She then started to speak back to Deonte. “I gave it to him. Now, when and where am I supposed to meet these people?”

Deonte paused, then replied, “Oh…uh…yeah, that’s the reason I am calling. They had to leave the island in a hurry; something crazy came up. So, just lay back and chill for these couple of days. Go out and have a good time, there’s plenty of clubs and beaches, and you are in the weed capital. Anywhere you want to go, anything you need, my man there got you covered.”

“What?” Jamika said, disappointed, “I was all ready to perform for them. I stayed up all night practicing.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance.”

“Well, I guess you’re right, Dee. I need to call my family and let them know that I’m here. I left in such a rush that I—”

She was interrupted by Deonte. “No…uh…I already called them. They know where you are and when you will be back. So have fun while you’re there. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Dee.”

Jamika figured she might as well use this opportunity to enjoy Jamaica. Charles brought her over two long stemsfilled with marijuana. She inhaled the potent weed, and realized that it was the best she’d ever smoked. After she’d cured her munchies and taken a nap, she decided to spend the night partying. She slipped into one of the sexy outfits that Deonte had purchased for her.

The outfit she chose to wear that night was silk, all white. The top had a wide collar with low cut buttons that exposed her ample cleavage. The bottom of the shirt wrapped around her stomach, and tied in the back over the fitting, matching mid-thigh shorts. The shoes were open-toed white strapped heels.

Jamika looked at herself in the mirror and her thoughts were back to the audition that she had initially come for. The outfit was sexy on her, but not the kind of thing she would wear to an audition. Deonte knew this better than anyone else. Jamika dismissed the thought with the notion that maybe he was trying to make her image sexier.

***

Jamika partied, ate, smoke and drank her short stay in Jamaica away. It seemed all too soon to be returning to the old U.S. of A. She was anxious to see Deonte and thank him intimately for sending her, even though she did not get to audition.

“How are you, young lady?” asked the customs officer.

“Everything’s irie,” Jamika replied with a smile, making use of one of the words she’d learned while on the island.

“Are you traveling alone?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” she answered.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty,” Jamika answered, wondering why he was asking her so many questions.

Then he started with more questions. “Why would an attractive twenty-year-old be traveling all alone?” he asked.

“Well, I was going to audition for Nubian Records, but they canceled at the last minute.”

The officer looked skeptical. “Nubian, huh? Aren’t they stationed here in the States?”

“Yes, but they were filming a video there, and wanted me to come and audition there,” she explained.

“Uh-huh,” the office replied in deep thought. He then wrote a big red S for search on Jamika’s ticket and asked her to step over to the side. Jamika did as she was told.

The officer left the Customs terminal and began to look through Jamika’s things, while asking her continuous questions. He asked her everything from when and where her tickets were purchased, to where she had spent her stay while in Jamaica. He was rummaging and feeling through Jamika’s second suitcase when he pulled out a hand-held razor. He then proceeded to cut into the inside backing of the designer suitcase. “Hey! What in the hell?” Jamika asked angrily.

“Hey yourself,” replied the officer. “You almost got by me. Step into that room over there, please.”

“I am not stepping anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on here!”

“You can go into that room or be arrested right here!” he said.

“Arrested? For what?” Jamika asked, very afraid now.

The officer did not answer. He simply pointed again toward a little room, and Jamika started off for it.

Once inside the little room, Jamika was strip-searched by a woman officer. The white powdery substance that was hidden in the backing of her suitcase was being tested and weighed. The substance was put into a container, where it turned the testing liquid blue. Jamika was handcuffed and read her rights. She stared in disbelief at the realization that cocaine had somehow gotten into her suitcase. The same suitcase that Deonte had gotten for her. The same suitcase that Charles in Jamaica had unlimited access to while she was out on her many outings.

It all came to her slowly, yet clearly. She thought about the twenty-five thousand dollars, the anger, the fake audition. Damn, I’ve been played again. How could he do this to me?

“It’s five kilograms of cocaine, sir. I am calling the agents over now,” said one of the officers into a speakerphone. Jamika suddenly felt dizzy. Five keys? Federal agents? This had to be a nightmare that she was about to wake up from momentarily.

The FBI agents arrived rather quickly, and did not hesitate in offering her an opportunity to cooperate. But, she remembered her right to remain silent. She needed to get an attorney fast. Deonte was going down. He had put her in this predicament, and for that, he was going to pay.

***

She was being brought in through the steel door of what looked like a gigantic garage, to a place in Miami called a Federal Detention Center. She was fingerprinted, strip-searched, and ordered to give urine and blood samples. She was then allowed to make a phone call.

She called Felise’s twice and the phone rang continuously to no avail. She figured Felise was either locked in her room or over at her grandmother’s. She then called Marjorie’s. She felt both saddened and relieved to hear her grandmother’s familiar hello. “Hi Grandma, it’s me.”

“Oh my God, Meek. We have been looking all over for you. I went over to Deonte’s and didn’t get an answer. I was—”

Jamika interrupted her grandmother to get the news over with. “Grandma, I am in big trouble. I am in federal custody for importing drugs that I did not know that I had…” She heard Marjorie cry out and then the echo as the phone hit the floor from being dropped.

Jamika wished at that moment she could curl up into a ball and die. She never wanted to hurt her family. She waited patiently for her grandmother’s return. It was Rasheeda’s voice that she heard next. “Meek?”

“I’m here, is Grandma okay?” Jamika asked.

“Not really, none of us are. You see, Momma died yesterday.”

Now it was Jamika’s turn to drop the phone. She backed away from it like it was a live rattlesnake, about to attack her. All at once, she felt the tears flood her eyes, her throat go dry, and her heart fall into her stomach. She didn’t remember anything else, other than being offered food. She had no appetite to eat, and laid on a top bunk, crying all night long.

She thought of her young mother, only thirty-six years old, gone forever. Every time she closed her eyes, she would see Felise’s smile, or hear her laugh. She thought about how hard Felise had tried to raise them to be good people, and all the trials she had endured being a young, single mother. Some people had lived for years and years with HIV, yet her own mother had not even lasted two. She prayed to God and asked him why. Why did life seem to hold one terrible blow after another for her? It seemed that as soon as things began to improve, there was something even more devastating that lie ahead.

Jamika was looking around the room for something to end all of her pain, when she remembered the shaver that was given to her in the intake bag. She removed the razor from the safety shaft. She sliced twice against the inside of her wrists. She slowly let the razor slip from her fingers as she became weak and lightheaded. She welcomed the darkness that overcame her.

***

Jamika awoke in a room that was smaller than the one she had previously occupied. There were no windows and no other objects. There was a woman, sitting in a chair near the cushioned door. The woman seemed extremely relaxed and began to speak when she noticed Jamika was awake. “Hello there. Are you okay?”